


you are my sweetest downfall (i loved you first)

by avosettas



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Deaf Character, Earth C (Homestuck), F/F, Multi, Nightmares, Not Canon Compliant - Homestuck 2: Beyond Canon, Not Canon Compliant - The Homestuck Epilogues, Panic Attacks, Past Chucklevoodoo Misuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:53:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24704098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avosettas/pseuds/avosettas
Summary: “Are you still crying over that bastard?” Damara asks, voice muffled against Meulin’s shoulder. “I’ll kill him.”
Relationships: Damara Megido/Meulin Leijon/Latula Pyrope
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11
Collections: Homestuck Polyswap 2020 - Prospit





	you are my sweetest downfall (i loved you first)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Furzeflower](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Furzeflower/gifts).



> **Therapy Session with the Girlfriends (tm)**
> 
> **If you're comfy with writing past abuse and trauma, this is the prompt for you! I'm thinking in this, Meulin has 100% distanced herself from Kurloz but she obviously still deals with the aftereffects from his chucklevoodoos and whatnot. Maybe something sets her off and she and her two new girlfriends work thru some Trauma.**
> 
> YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH also note: i hc that latula is SHIT at signing so a lot of times she'll just try and talk slower so meu can read her lips. dam talks as she signs so neither of her gfs get left out also i LOVE this ship

Meulin twitches in her sleep, like she’s cold. This in and of itself is not odd, except that she’s sweating and when you place your hand on her forehead, it’s hot. Much hotter than an olive-blooded should be. 

Damara, on Meulin’s other side, blinks at you slowly. You never got used to her weird, sideways goat pupils while you were all alive; now you can try and get used to them now that you’ve all been resurrected. “Wake her up,” she says, voice thick with sleep. 

You look back down at your girlfriend. Damara is impatient, and she just shoves Meulin at you instead of waiting. 

“Damz!” 

And Meulin lets out the most horrible scream. 

You hold her close, since Damara has already pretty much pushed her into your arms. “Come on, Meu, I gotcha…” You coo, even though she can’t hear you.

Damara scoots herself as close as she can get to the two of you without being on top of you. Meulin is still shaking, but she shifts ever so slightly as Damara pushes herself against the two of you. You can practically feel her burgundy-blooded warmth through Meulin. 

“Are you still crying over that bastard?” Damara asks, voice muffled against Meulin’s shoulder. “I’ll kill him.” 

You don’t really understand how, but that calms her down, a bit. It must be the vibrations of Damara’s voice, or something. 

“My eyes, Latula,” Meulin asks, quieter than usual. “What color are my eyes?” 

“Same as always, kitty cat.” You reply slowly, so she can read your lips. “Olive on orange.” 

Meulin nods and buries her face in your neck. 

After a bit, she’s snoring peacefully again, and Damara grunts to get your half-asleep attention. “Why does she always ask that?” 

“Think the chucklevoodoos made her eyes go purple,” you mumble softly, even though no noise will wake Meulin. “Cuz it’s -” 

“Purple-blood psionics,” Damara interrupts, sounding disgusted. “I will kill him.” 

“Tuna’d be sad.” 

“The fuck do you care for?” Damara asks, and you leave it at that, because she’s right, because when you’d tried to get him away from Kurloz he’d turned his back on you. 

~

Meulin at breakfast is different from Meulin in the middle of the night, but just as easy to set off. But she’s more cheerful, and even Damara is smiling this morning. 

You yawn as you walk into the kitchen. “Mornin’ babes,” you greet your girlfriends, slumping into a chair across from Damara. She blows smoke into your face. You wave at Meulin. 

“Good morning!” Meulin says cheerfully, waving the smoke away with one hand as she moves to open a window. It’s gray and it looks like it might pour, but she pays it no heed. “I’m going to make pancakes!” 

“Sounds good, kitty cat.” Your signing is messy so early in the morning, but Meulin still grins at you. 

Damara leans back in her chair, far enough that you think she’ll fall. Then, she says, “Make mine heart shaped, all cutesy and shit?” You can see her signing though; it’s not as coarse as her speaking. 

“Of course!” Meulin pushes her chair back on all four legs and kisses her cheek in one fell swoop. Then, she stops on her way back to the stove. 

“Ah,” she says quietly, which surprises even Damara enough to make her sit up straight. A quiet Meulin, you’d known since _forever_ , is not a good thing. “Who left this here?” 

On the countertop next to the doorframe is a small sewing box. It’s closed, but someone’s left a pincushion out next to it. The pins have ball ends, all the colors of the hemospectrum, and then some.

Damara stands and grabs it all - the pincushion, the pins, the box - and disappears. You hear something break in the next room. Meulin doesn’t ask, though; Damara must be out of her sightline. 

When Damara comes back she’s trying to light another cigarette. “Damn, Damz,” you say appreciatively. Damara smirks a bit, but reaches out for Meulin, who’s now shaking a bit. 

You’ve always admired Damara’s signing, slow and elegant but still getting her point across; she’s much better at it than you because she was friends with Meulin even before the game. Now, she holds Meulin’s shoulder with one hand and signs slowly with the other. 

“Porrim’s,” she says aloud for your benefit. “It’s Porrim’s sewing box, she left it here because she was helping me fix a skirt.” 

“It’s Porrim’s,” Meulin echoes. She nods a few times, like she’s confirming it to herself. “Porrim’s.” 

“Aw yeah,” you agree aloud, although you sign something less radical with your less-than-rad sign language skills for Meulin’s benefit. “Po-mary’s cool as hell.” 

“She is,” Meulin agrees, more cheerful now. “And Kurloz would never have such a colorful pin cushion, he only used purple…” 

“Don’t think about him,” Damara says sternly. “We’re thinking about Maryam. Porrim.” You giggle a bit at her, and she glares. She can project her mean image all she wants, but her signing gives her away; she’s a _total softie_ for your kitty cat. 

“Porrim,” Meulin agrees, and she sounds much more like herself. “She wanted to stab him with her knitting needles!” She giggles, and adds conspiratorially, glancing between you and Damara, “He deserves it.” 

“Sure does, kitty cat.” 

Meulin smooths her skirt. “Thank you!” she tells Damara sincerely. “And you!” And she kisses you on the cheek. “Oh, but the pancakes are burnt…” 

“We’ll blame that bastard.” Damara says, but you see her sign “Porrim” instead. It makes you giggle a bit, but Damara glares at you, and then reaches over and pinches your cheek. 

“Should I make more?” Meulin asks, unconcerned. Well, unconcerned about you and Damara; concerned about the pancakes. 

“If you want, kitty cat,” you tell her. God, you love it when she’s awake and looking at you so she can just read your lips; signing is hard for you. Your hands get all messed up and somehow you’ll end up signing something completely stupid.

“Flour!” Meulin sings, and you grin at Damara as she pulls you out Meulin’s path.


End file.
